


Affection Unbound

by KristinaCrow



Category: Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind!Prowl, Deaf!Lockdown, Explicit Sexual Content, Follows Cyndi's lightverse, Lots of Original Characters - Freeform, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:10:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristinaCrow/pseuds/KristinaCrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love people when they least deserve it, because that's when they need it the most. .o Alternate universe, follows Cyndi's Light!verse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The storm

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Light](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/111754) by Cyndi. 



_Pain…Death…Oil splattering everywhere…Help…HELP ME! It hurts! Don’t let'em near me! NO! NO NO NO NO NO! Not the red X! Let me go! LET ME GO!_

666

Lockdown woke with a raspy screech, springing up like the plant after the rain. Panting, he looked around him, jerking his head left and right, fearfully expecting to find himself in the middle of the dreaded scrap yard. Nothing. No smoke, not dead, gray metal, and, most importantly, no red X-es. Only the softly glowing monitors of his beloved ship stared back at him, still showing the list of top bounties in the last year. Letting out a long, deep exhale, Lockdown let himself slump back onto the console with a solid „THUMP“. Offlining his spindle crimson optics, he let a humorless smile creep onto his stark features.

_Huh... Ah must've fell 'sleep a' work 'gain...heh..._

No sound. And for Lockdown, none was needed. Why bother with sounds when one has no audios to listen to them? Besides, vibrations were doing the job for him just nicely, thank you very much. Pushing off his console, he stretched his arms above his helm, metallic joints poping and straining as he eased the tension out of his mismatched body.

_Might as well take a walk..._

666

The bounty hunter was sitting on the beach of the lake Erie. The sun has settled already and it was steadily growing dark, but he did not care. The Death's Head was near, cloacked like the enormous rock. Simple, but effective. Lockdown felt water drop on his black spiked shoulder, and looked up. The sky was starless and he could see dark clouds swirling threateningly above. The storm was picking up, and he knew he would be the only one outside from now on. Maybe. Well, no fleshbags at least.

He saw the lightning flash against the darkness of the stormy sky, and mere seconds later, one of the most powerful vibrations in the universe wracked trough his body, shooting up trough his backstruts to his Spark. But Lockdown seriously suspected that the vibrations only rang trough the empty Spark chamber.

After all, the monster like him could not possibly have a Spark.

Lockdown almost did not see the shadow that was cast against the dark lake, what with being too absorbed in counting the seconds between the thunders out of _pure boredom_.

Almost.

 Whipping up, falling into a defensive stance, and a little spooked out at how all of his ninja training was not so completely lost to him as he thought it was, he fully expected that accursed, gorgeous, talented opticless ninjabot with his throwing disks at the ready.

Needless to say, what Lockdown really saw shocked him so much he fell onto his aft back in the mud.

There, basking in the light of the lightnings and rain, lip components parted slightly and helm thrown back, was a bot with wings similar to Blitzwing's and a cockpit for a chassis. It looked like a fembot. By the features of the body it looked like the neutral, a bot, but the stance was far too straight and the readings of the Spark far too strong to be anything short of a femme. The new bot turned to Lockdown and extended her servo to him. He stared, wide opticked, and he probably gaped like a glitched turbofish for a moment too long. The fembot's mouth fell into a frown and she went to pull her servo back. Lockdown, snapping out of it, snatched the small servo into his own one and the fembot smiled, helping him up. He was impressed. For a small body, she sure was stong.

Huh.

Talk about decieving apperiances.

 Now that they were standing faceplates to faceplates, or, rather, faceplates to chassis, Lockdown could finally see this mysterious little femme. She was muddy, but he could make out the vivid purples and greens of the paintjob. The helm was purple with two green stripes on each side and green, round audios. An oddly shaped crest adorned the fembot's forehelm. He moved his crimson optics further down, to look the femme in the optics. Except there were no optics visible. Rather, cracked Prowl- like visor stared back at him, and Lockdown could see blue optic-light seeping trough the crack.Blue.Weird. No Autobot had purple-green paintjob, much less flight-capable. Not that Lockdown knew about, anyways. No faction insignia visible either, but it was hard to tell with all of the sticky mud stuck on the fembot's armor.

 _Ah well, all or nothin'._ „Who're ya?“- he asked. The femme stayed silent. Lockdown frowned and felt his temper slip. „Hey kid, Ah'm talkin' to ya! Ah'm Lockdown, wha's yer designation, fraggit?“ The femme turned her visor away and looked to the wet soil. Finally she threw her head back, tapping her neck with her left servo. Lightning chose that particular moment to strike, and Lockodwn saw sparks dancing around the long fingers and the exposed vocalizer. Broken, rendering the bot mute. Sighing, the fembot turned her helm to the say, not meeting his optics, far too shy and self-concious to do anything but stare at the ground, nervously biting her bottom lip and wrapping her arms around her chassis. He could see small fangs peeking under the top lip component, biting the bottom one so hard Lockdown was wondering how the metal did not buckle and rupture under it. Lockdown mused for a while, staring the fembot down. If he took her to his ship, he was risking everything. The bot was a complete stranger to him, and, for all he knew, this could all be some kind of trap from either sides and he would be deactivated before the end of the night. On the other servo, he was awfully curious. This little femme was a mystery to him, a mystery he itched to solve. Besides, she looked like she could lose some help.

_Since when do Ah care 'bout helpin' the bot's in need?_

Lockdown growled and cursed under his breath, too quietly for the other one to hear above the thunders and beating of the rain.

_Ah'm growin' soft, dammit. Ah'm challengin' the death sentence rite now...Okay, her' goes..._

Making his processors up, already at the peace with the fact that he was severely glitching and psychotic, Lockdown snatched the fembot's servo in his own, starting to pull her towards his masked ship. The bot, naturally, resisted. He actually _twisted_ out of Lockdown's grip and fell into a defensive stance. Far too annoyed to notice or care about the pure ninja stance the fembot was in, Lockdown sighed and rolled his optics. Figures. The damn femme did not know nothing of him but his name, and to be frank, he would react the same way she did. But he would import himself to the Pit before admitting it to the universe out loud.

„C'mon, kid. Ah'm gonna help ya. Ya can say wit' me, if yeh wanna. Ah'm itchin' for some company anyway.“

The fembot's mood performed an all out 180° swing. Dirty face lighing up with the biggest smile known to universe Lockdown thought was pretty much physically impossible, the fembot leaped up and latched onto him, nuzzling into his chassis and Lockdown realized with more surprise than he cared to admit that he was, for the first time in at least two billion years, hugged. Fragging _hugged_. From a complete stranger none the less. _Ah seem to git suprised a lot taday.._. Thankfully, the petite fembot let go almost instantly, backing up a few steps, looking thoroughly ashamed and flustered, and bit her bottom lip again, mentally berating herself for being so ignorant. _What were you thinking, hugging a complete stranger like that!Stupid, ignorant, severely glitched_   _femm_ _e!_ \- she screamed inside her helm. She snapped it back up when Lockdown spoke. „C'mon, kid.“- he said, taking the fembot's servo in his own one, enclosing it completely. He led the way to his ship, unknowingly opening the doors that were locked for far too long in both their Sparks, creating a bond that would last trough the centuries to come, and would not break even when their shells cease to function.


	2. The voice

Lockdown had no idea what he was doing at first.

He took the fembot to „The Death's Head“ and told her to stay on the bridge. Now, as he rummaged trough the shelves to find something, _anything_ to clean the unfortunate stranger on his bridge up, he was certain that he was severely glitched in the processors and was pretty much going insane. He found what he needed, which was a cleaning solvent and at least a dozen of these fluffy organic sheets found all around the Earth...rowels...no...Towels! Yes, _towels_. Of all the things that could be found on the tiny, pathetic backwater planet, towels were one of the few things Lockdown truly enjoyed. He would never admit it, of course. Lockdown the bounty hunter, ruthless and merciless mod thief and a neutral trash, enjoying fluffy drying tools, _hah_!

 _Tha's it. Ah'm goin' crazy. Crazy. Why'm Ah not surprised?_ He sighed, gathering all he found in his mismatched arms, and stomped back to the bridge. The fembot was still there, looking around from her vantage point, exactly where he left her. She snapped her visor back at him as he came around, carrying towels and solvents. „C'm'ere kid, ya gotta git cleaned up.“ The fembot eyed the things uncertainly, but reluctantly approached him anyway. Lockdown motioned for her to sit on the chair he brought, and after the purple-green fembot was comfortable, he dumped the solvents not-so-gently over her. He took the first towel and brushed it over her helm.

The moment he pulled away, however, he swore, shielding his optics. „ _Frag_! Where did ya git the paintjob kid! Yer practic'ly a _lighthouse_!“ He growled, getting up and strolling over to the shelf which contained many mods. Lockdown was a modification collectioner. They were his fix, an unhealthy obsession. This particular one allowed him to look at the most brightest of colors, without hurting his optics or flinching away. It was shaped like the flat visor, only dark in color and covering his optics, forehelm and inked cheekplates. He turned back to the femme and resumed cleaning her up. He let her have her privacy, gruffily turning his back to her while she cleaned herself from wait down. After that was out of the way, Lockdown led her to his workshop, planting her on the surgery table and gathering necessary tools to repair her vocalizer. Only, after further inspection, Lockdown realized that the vocalizer was beyond repair. He took it out carefully, and wondered what to do with the now completely mute fembot. Finally Lockdown snapped his digits, and, looking down at the bothered fembot that stared at her vocalizer like it had become organic, turned on his pedes and rummaged and looked for a particular mod.

He found it after sometime, and turned back to the fembot to install it. The neon fembot looked absolutely _spooked_ and Lockdown rolled his optics. „Is a vocalizer kid, not a turbolion. It belonged ta Songstream, she gave i' ta meh after she gave vow o' silence, rite after her bon'mate offed. Yer gonna have yer voice back.“

Songstream was a top Cybertronian singer. She had a voice that melted the coldest of Sparks and was one of the Cybertron's favorites. The first time Lockdown laid optics on her was during the hunt, when he was catching the serial killer gone rogue. Her bondmate, Greenvoice, was her manager and a singing partner. Songstream's voice was the only thing Lockdown truly heard, with Spark and nonexistent audios alike. Further scans proved that Lockdown actually _had_ a half melted processor motherboard and a functional, albeit damaged, wire connected to the peripheral chip of his right audio that only processed one frequency. Needless to say, he was _overjoyed_. Songstream was a flaw sympathizer, and she was the one who took him to Magnificus, who gave him the scans. They were _inseparable_ during his hunt. He catched the killer in the end, but Greenvoice was killed in the final chase. Songstream was beyond sparkbroken, and gave a vow of silence right after her final performance on the burial. Many claimed it was her greatest moment. Songstream gave her vocalizer to Lockdown as a thank you gift and a prize. That vocalizer meant to Lockdown more than any trophy in the world ever could.

Now, six million years later, he was installing it into the strange fembot with vibrant neon paintjob. It was rather fitting – vibrant armor, vibrant voice.

666

The process of the installation was long and delicate. More than a few times did Lockdown snap at that crazy fembot to hold still, or he would by all means rewire her into a _bomb_. After that particular threat was growled out, she gave one last flinch before forcing herself to relax and stilling. Her neck was awfully sensitive and the spot where Lockdown was touching tasted numb and tingly at the same time. All she wanted was to duck her helm and hide. There she was, letting a stranger poke around her _throat_. But, she figured, she did weirder things in the past. So she held still. She really did not want to become a walking bomb.

Finally the installation was over. Lockdown closed the panel on her neck and she allowed herself a slight shiver. „Try it outta kiddo. Can't know if i' worked if ya'll gonna be silent all tha time.“ The fembot almost fell to the temptation of cutting him in half with her katanas for bossing her around, but figured it was not the greatest start. Thus, she gave him an unimpressed stare. She tried saying „thank you“, but all that got out was static. She tried a few times more, variating between saying her designation and random thoughts. Finally, the only sound Lockdown has ever know and been itching to hear again rung trough The Death's Head, as vibrant and clear as ever: „Synaesthesia.“


	3. The Flaw's Tears

„ Sorry?“-Lockdown stared, perplexed, at the fembot before him. He knew she was messed up. But he didn't know she was messed up so _much!_

„Don't be. That is my designation. Synaesthesia. _Syn_ , if you will. The name is far too long and glossa-breaking for almost everyone to memorize or say properly. Lockdown, was it not? Thank you. For everything.“ Lockdown repressed a shiver at the sound of her new voice. It was so melodic, so angelic. If asked, he would say it was the voice of that sick bastard Primus itself.

„Nah, no prob, kid. Ya looked like ya needed a servo at a time.“

Syn grinned up at him ( Primus was the fembot tiny) and offered him her servo. He enclosed it with his much larger one and gave it a firm shake. „ As much as I would love to stay and chitchat, Lockdown, I fear I have already stayed out my welcome here. Thank you for your hospitality. Hopefully, we will meet again under better cirumstances.“ Syn turned away from him and started walking towards the exit, her pedefalls eerily silent. Lockdown panicked. He just got to hear again, she could not go!

Yes, Lockdown panicked and did something very stupid and uncharacteristicaly _nice_ for him.

„Hey! Hey kid! Syn!“ Synaesthesia turned to face him:“Yes?“ Lockdown scratched his neck with his hook and looked down at her. „ Ya could stay, if ya wanna. Jus' don't get in tha way.“

For someone who choose to wear a visor, Syn gave a pretty good impression of blinking. After a moment of dumbstruck silence and disbelief on both sides, her face was split by one of her _impossibly_ large smiles and she dashed up at him. And before Lockdown could react in any form and way of reactions, Syneasthesia latched onto him like a vice. Pulling back quickly, she stared up a him and waited.

And waited

. „.. _.What_?“- Lockdown snapped.

„ Will you not show me around the ship? Can not have me wandering aimlessly and ending up falling out trough the airlock.“-Syn answed innocently. It was Lockdown's turn to stare. Huh. The damn kiddo had a point. Turning away, he grumbled at her to follow him and gave her the tour around The Death's Head. All the while questioning his good judgement and mental conditions for letting her stay, even tough it was only for his selfish wish to be close to the source of the only sound he could truly hear.

666

„Ya know Syn, I could repair yer visor. Broke' visor ain't no more usefull than new paintjob.“ After the tour and an extremely odd and awkward refueling, Lockdown showed Syn her new room. It was an empty storage room, long forgotten by his owner. Dust covered everything and the air was stale. Syn was thankful anyway. Lockdown gave her the permission to decorate it as she saw fit, as long as the restoration did not affect his credit condition too much, because 'it was crisis an' he was damn well _lucky_ to 'ave this much an' he had two mouths to fraggin' feed now'.

Syn grimaced: „I would much rather repair it myself, if you do not mind.”

„Oh Ah mind alrite. Nobot touches mah stuff but me. Now kindly give tha gimmick ta me.“

Syn stiffened and her tension was so great one could cut it with the knife. She looked away and met Lockdown's gaze moments later.

„No.“

Lockdown gaped. Suddenly, a holoscan so familiar it _hurt_ , and yet so distant at the same time, popped up in his mind. Shuddering and cursing mentally, he forced the image out of his processors. Finding himself very afraid all of a sudden, he hoped Synaesthesia was not what he feared she was. Otherwise, he was officially doomed.

 _Primus, if ya do this ta me, ya just confirm ya don't care 'bout flaws if yer life depended on it_. Gritting his dentas, Lockdown managed to force out:“...Are ya blind?“

The answer was so heated and so not what he expected and feared it nearly gave him a fuelpump failure. „What? _No_! Whatever gave you _that_ impression?! Most certainly _not_!“- Syn shot back. They spent some time in an uncomfortable silence, and then Lockdown finally found the courage to bring it up again. „Then, what's it?“

Syn's small shoulders visibly sagged in dismay. „You really are not going to let it slide, are you?“

„Nope.“-Lockdown shot her a slag-eating grin. Synaesthesia sighed deeply and turned her back to him. A few moments later, her voice rang out vibrantly. „ Sometimes, the assembly line glitches and mistakes happen. One mistake amongst million perfections. I am _the_ one.“ A sharp _click_ echoed trough the ship, gone unheared by Lockdown but louder than cannonfire to her. Her left servo lowered, the visor in it. „What, ya 'ave red optics? Can't say it wouldn't sui-“

„Swear it upon your Spark you will not tell anything to anyone.“- Synaesthesia hissed.

„Wha-“

„SWEAR IT!

“ Lockdown recoiled. _Woah_. It was more serious than he tought. Syn had the right to _offline_ him if he went against his word.

„...Ah swear.“

Syn turned around and harsh lights caught her face. Lockdown stared at her, shocked speechless. Syneasthesia had optics alright. Not _normal_ ones, mind you. Her left optic was aqua blue, while the other one was...red. Vermilion, fierce angry Decepticon _red_.

„ What 'appened?“

Syn avoided his optics and fidgeted uncomfortably. „One of the arms on the line malfunctioned. It...knocked the blade on my helm...severing all of the sensor wires. They tried to repair me...but wired the sensors and processors wrongly. The pain and stress inflicted upon my body ruptured the right optic fibers and it became red. They never bothered by it... they just _tossed me away_ and resumed working. I ran, disoriented. It was so confusing and intense, and I barely managed to crawl under some kind of bridge before I passed out. Wrongly wired connections mean crossed senses. I see music, taste emotions, hear colors.“

Syn was beyond confused when Lockdown visibly relaxed, then reached up and put his servo on his helm, fiddling with something. When he spoke, his voice was so low Syn had trouble _seeing_ it.

„Yer not the only one, kid. Ah'm deaf as a post, almost. Acid spilled and sizzled mah audios. Only can hear yer new voice.“ Once the helmet was removed, Lockdown threw his helm back and harsh lights revealed his own source of shame. Where audios were supposed to exist, stood glaring jagged holes. Syn nearly passed out when she noticed she could _see trough his head_. „ That is quite a feature you have there, Lockdown.“ She hesitantly came closer to him, reaching out but stopping mid-air. „ Would you mind if I..?“

When Lockown avoided her mismatched optics and shook his head no, he would not mind, Syn skimmed her fingertips over the rim of the hole, her touch feather-light, barely there. She explored his imperfection, leaving no place unmapped. Then she felt the tremors and looked down. What she saw shocked her.

Lockdown's optics were shut tightly, his denta bared in a pained grimace. Tears streamed hotly down his stark face and his whole frame shook. Synaesthesia pulled back instantly, moving to cup his face.

„Lockdown. Lockdown, what is wrong? Did I hurt you?“

Lockdown shook his head violently, and pulled her closer, wrapping his mismaching arms around her lithe frame, trembling so much his plating rattled.

„...Lockdown..?“

„A-Ah'm sorry kiddo. J-just... ya've no i-idea what Ah w-was 'bout ta d-do tonite...“-Lockdown sobbed harshly and softly at the same time. Truth is, Lockdown was planning _suicide_ that fateful night. Four billion years of fear, hatered and self-loathing have finally won. If it was not for the neon colored fembot, The bounty huner would be dead by now.

He told her. He told her _everything_. Of Yoketron and his dojo, of his betrayal, of the beautiful blind Prowl and the _other_ ninja, of every one of his sins.

Syn did not know what to think. She stared blanky at the fragile creature in her arms, and wondered in her young mind what to _do_. Her Master was _dead_ , killed by the one she now held. She finally knew why she was sent to the emergency stasis lock and why she woke up on Earth.

She looked down at Lockdown, and _forgave_. Syn forgave and held him in her arms, rocking back and forth lightly and caressing his helm. She never cried, never grieved. Because she made a promise to Master Yoketron to never be sorrowful again, and she would burn in the Pit before she broke that promise. Still, she spared a moment of silence for the one she called a father and a friend and silently prayed for his Spark.

Yes, revenge would not do a thing. Lockdown was remorseful, Lockdown was sorry, Lockdown _never wanted to do it_ , and that is all Syn had to know to forgive the murderer of her Master.


	4. Hunt

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Syn learned to adapt to living with Lockdown. Her new room, dusty and empty before, was now filled with a low recharge berth, a shelf and a low table with cushions.

Lockdown gave her the permission to wander around the ship. The Death's Head itself was small, smaller than the average ship, but it was comfortable. Well, as much as gray steel walls and shelves filled with mods can be comfortable.

Syn often wondered what made her come with Lockdown in the first place. The mech was dark even by her standards, and was nothing short of what human race called „a cowboy“. Whatever that meant.

Even more she wondered why she forgave him so easily. Lockdown was a _murderer of her sacred sensei_ , for Primus' sake! Then, a memory of him weeping and shakily clinging onto her for dear life would pop up, and she would be reminded why.

„ Hey kiddo, think you could lend a servo?“

Syn was snapped out of her musings when his deep, rough voice echoed trough the ship. She fluidly untangled from her lotus position and walked into the workshop where Lockdown resided.

„Yes, Lockdown?“

The formerly adressed mech was bent over a piece of plating. Further inspection revealed it was his helmet, a simple piece of black metal covering the back of his head and the holes.

„ Think ya could hold dis end fer me? Ah gotta bend it back in position.“

„Of course.“-Syn walked towards him and put her servos on the right end of the helmet. In doing so, she unintentionally brushed her hip on Lockdown's thigh.

Electricity danced where their plating met. Lockdown jumped slightly and looked down at her and their touching legs. Not knowing how to respond to the situation, and noticing Syn did not either, he delicately put some distance between them. The spot where they touched tingled.

„Um...yeah, like dat. Just grip it 'ard.“

„Okay.“- Syn all but whispered.

A moment of awkward silence was followed by a series of _twack, twack, twack_. It went on for quite some time; Syn holding down, Lockdown bending. One last, final _twack_ , and the workshop was silent again.

Synaesthesia let go of the helmet and Lockdown put it on again. He cleared his vocalizer and she looked up at him.

„ Um, Ah gotta new bounty. Wanna...tag along?“

„A...bounty?“

Lockdown rolled his optics.

„Yeah, a bounty, kid. Wanna help earn some creds?“

Syn mused for a second. She has never tried bounty hunting before. And she had to help in some way. Doing nothing while Lockdown broke his backstruts to earn for the living would simply not do.

„ Okay, I will accompany you. Who are we hunting?“

Lockdown's face lit up like Iaconian lights. He strolled out of the workshop and onto the bridge, Syn trailing behind him.

He sat himself in his ridicoulusly ( to Syn) large capetain chair and, with a flourish of his smart digits, the console lit up and displayed The Feed, intergalactical bounty hunting site containing lists upon lists of bounties and their information.

„We're lookin' fer a nasty one. Psydis. Broke outta The Stockade an' in hidin'. A serial killer an' a psycho rapist.“

Syn's optics widened the size of the moon behind her visor.

„ Nobot in their right mind would go after him, no matter the prize.“

„Damn right. He's woth alot, an' there won't be any competition. Nobot  who has halfa processors takes dis kinda bounty up.“

Syn delicately arched a browplate.

„So that makes the two of us fools?“

Lockdown fired the engine and The Death's Head jolted, rushing forward. Syn stumbled and went flying into a nearby shelf, crashing with a yelp, mods attacking from above. She glared at Lockdown as he turned to her from his seat with a slag-eating grin, and shouted over the rumble of the engine:

„The biggest!“

666

The Death's Head flew down and touched the ground, cloacking and blending in with its surroundings. The ramp lowered and a muscle car rushed out, followed by a jet, who was more than glad to get out and see the sky again.

„ Dun wander a lot kid, we gotta job ta do.“

Syn mentally rolled her optics.

„ Whatever. It is not my fault I like open spaces. Anyway, where are we heading?“

Lockdown took a turn to the left.

„Dis' one of a many colonies kiddo. He was reported ta be seen 'ere last. We're headin' into town.“

Syn slowed down and came beside him, confused.

„ Why would a wanted criminal hide in the crowded town?“

If Lockdown was in his bipedal mode, he would have shot her a grin.

„'Cause dere's no better hidin' place than in plain sight.“

666

They found their target at last.

Psydis was lounging in a dirty bar, intoxicated off his aft and completely oblivious to the fact that he was about to get that very aft handed to him.

Lockdown observed him from the distance like a hawk, an evil smirk on his stark face. Syn was sitting beside him, stealing glances at their prey as well. She curled her lip in distaste when Psydis pulled a stripper fembot close and laved her neck cables with his glossa, leaving a sticky trail of lubricant in its wake.

„ That bastard glitch's drunk offa 'is aft. Dis' gonna be easy.“

Syn's optics widened when he gripped her forearm and pulled her closer. Unwanted shivers trailed down her wings when he whispered in her audio:

„Okay kiddo, here's the plan. Ya go dere an' distract the crazy mecha 'till Ah sneak attack from behind. Dig?“

Not waiting for the response, Lockdown pushed her towards their intoxicated prey.

„What?! How am I supposed to do that?“-Syn whispered harshly.

„The Pit would Ah know? Use yer femme charm or sumthin', jus' distract 'im!“- the bounty hunter shot back.

Turning to where Psydis resided, the neon fembot shuddered at the mere tought of going up to him.

 _I...cannot believe I am about to do this._ Her small shoulders sagged in dismay and she sighed miserably. _Okay then...here it goes..._ Pulling on a seducing smile and telling her screaming pride and dignity off, she sashajed up to Psydis.

And promptly jumped into his lap.

„ Woah there, little one! Ya new here?“

Psydis' voice was a raspy, screechy tenore and the moment and the moment his rusty servo touched her green tigh Syn was overcome by a great temptation to rip her own audios out, purge her morning tea and rip the slegger apart with her bare servos. All at once.

„Mmhmm, and you must be Psydis, am I right? I heard many things about you, you nasty _mech_.“

Psydis' digits fondled her hip seam and she felt nausea coming on. Her optic twitched.

„Oh? An' what are these things ya heard?“

Syn stole a glance across his shoulder. Lockdown gave her a thumb up and sneaked closer, now standing mere meters away from them.

„Many _dirty things._ Oh! I know! Why don't you show them to me? C'mon, give me that _animal._ “- Syn growled, not believing this was happening.

Psydis' browplates rose up in suprise and he chuckled a moment later, licking his lips. Syn spotted shark-like denta.

„Sure thing, little one. I've gotta room here. I'll show these _things_ ta ya there.“

As Psydis rose, Lockdown jumped him from behind and tackled him to the dusty floor.

Syn dodged them and let Lockdown handle the crazy psycho. If he needed help, he would snarl at her to jump in.

Just as it looked like Lockdown would win, Psydis grabbed his uppermost spikes and trew him off. Lockdown howled like a wounded animal and Psydis dashed out of the bar. A brawl erupted trough the whole bar as Lockdown flew into the booth of some other bots. Syn rolled her optics and ran after their bounty.

Once outside, Syn spotted him. He was running aimlessly, panicking, disoriented. He seemed much more sober now, however. She dashed up to him and tapped his shoulder. He spun around and she spin kicked him square in the face with her foot. He fell to the ground and Syn tought that was that. But no. The slagging glitch picked himself up and pulled out a rifle.

„Ya fraggin' _bitch! Yer gonna pay!_ “

She grabbed her katanas just as he started firing and didged the shots. She jumped in the air, backflipped and knocked him down while landing. She knocked him out with a blunt end of the katana and took his rifle, subspacing it.

Turning around, Syn came face to chassis with Lockdown.

Lockdown, who _saw everything._

„ Lockdown...“

„ The ship. _Now._ “

Syn flinched at the sound of his voice. So cold and emotionless. She helped him pick the unconcious Psydis up and he put him none too gently between his shouder spikes.

The rest of their trek to The Death's Head was filled with a tense silence and Syn suddenly found herself envying the unconcious mech dangling across her partner's shoulders. He at least did not have to endure Lockdown's silent wrath, and she was sure those scratches on his plating would buff out.


	5. Wrath

„A _cyberninja!_ Why the frag did ya not fraggin' tell me _yer a fraggin' cyberinja?!_ “

Now Syn really envied the mech in the brig.

„Well it is not like it is all that important, is it?! There is no need to get your tailpipe in a knot!“

„But _how_ could a not tell me?! Yer a fraggin' _ninja!_ Who was he? Hm?! Who was yer _sacred sensei?!_

Syn winced and stayed silent. She could practicaly _see_ the rage steaming off his plating.

**_„ ANSWER ME, SYNAESTHESIA!“_ **

Syn recoiled from his anger, shocked.

Lockdown _never_ called her Synaesthesia.

It was _always_ Syn.

...Just...Syn.

She looked down at her pedes.

Sometimes she was not sure if that visor covered her flaw or her emitions. Be as it may, it will not come to her aid now. She was completely bared. Lockdown had a front seat to the storm in her mismatched optics.

„... Grand Master Yoketron.“

Lockdown made a pained sound and sat on the surgery table with a loud _thump_ , putting his helm in his servo.

„Figures it was 'im. It _always_ had ta be 'im.“

Syn inched towards him.

„Lock-“

**_„GIT OUT! GIT OUTTA MAH WORKSHOP!“_ **

A flying wrench hit the wall where Syn's helm was nanosecs ago. She flew out of the workshop and away from his insane rampage. She ran and did not stop until she reached her room.

Syn locked the door and slid onto the floor with a sigh. Leaning against the door, she banged her helm against it, only stopping once her processors started to ring. Getting up with a sigh, she grabbed a mop and cleaned her quarters.

666

Syn knew Lockdown had cooled down once the sounds of roaring curses and smashing things quieted and the ship was engulfed in silence jet again. Slipping out of her meditative state, she cautiously exited her room, making sure to create vibrations and warn him of her coming. Once in front of the door, she took a deep inhale and entered the red zone.

It looked like a cyclone decided to pay a visit. Mods were strewn, tools were wedged into the walls. The floor had dents Syn was sure were not there before. One of the tables was ripped clean out of the floor and was lying atop the crashed shelf.

Lockdown was sitting on the remaining table, a statue of grief and misery. He rather matched his enivronment, and Syn was certain his enivronment matched the state of his Spark.

Before she could say anything, Lockdown spoke up, his voice quiet and tired.

„ Betcha yer hatin' me rite now.“

Syn exhaled in relief and shook her helm. Standing before him, she sat on her heels and put her right hand on his knee. Her left one went up, lifting his face. Even when sitting hunched, Lockdown was at least a head taller than her. Syn had to look up to meet his tired gaze, and she did so with a gentle smile.

„You crazy fool“, she whispered affectionately to him, „If I did, I would not be here.“

Upon seeing Lockdown widen his beautiful crimson optics, she softly planted a chaste peck on his inked cheek. As if reading his toughts, she leaned her helm on his chassis, offlining her optics.

„You have a Spark. I can feel it.“- she mumbled quietly and nuzzled into his chassis.

Lockdown went to hug her back, but hesitation and fear stilled his left arm mid-air. Noticing this, Syn gave a small chuckle, and guided his arm around her, wrapping it around her booster and wings.

Lockdown hesitated a little, still unsure how to feel and act, but in the end he tightened his grip around her.

Their embrace was broken when a screech revebrated trough the floor, startling them both.

„I guess our guest just woke up.“- Syn said.

Lockdown guffaved and walked out of the workshop towards the brig, motioning for Syn to come with him, and she followed.

666

Psydis looked like someone stuck a live wire up his aft. He was clawing at the energy bars, oral lube spitting everywhere as he screeched obscenties that made no sense. Still, Syn managed to catch a few key words, such as _fraggin' little bitch, gunna frag ya so hard_ and _betcha yer a screamer._ She sneered, disgusted, at him and his antics.

Lockdown moved to stand protectively in front of her and growled. He used his vibe-text synthetizer and pretty much understood everything the psycho screamed. He grabbed him and put a stasis colar around his neck. Psydis went limp in his grip and Lockdown tossed him on the floor.

„Too bad he's wanted alive. Wish I coulda trow 'im outta mah airlock.“

„ Who put a bounty on him, anyway?“

Lockdown gave her a flat look.

„Elite guard, duh. Sentimental slaggers never let me 'ave some fun.“

Syn arched a brow.

„When are we handing him over?“

„Ya ask far too many questions.“-Lockdown rolled his optics.

„Curiosity.“

„Killed tha cat.“

„I am waiting.“

Lockdown groaned.

„ First thing in tha mormin'. I need ta sleep.“

Lockdown walked away and his footsteps became distant. Syn spared Psydis one last glance before following suit.

Once in her berth, she curled up on her right side and let sleep overtake her, gazing at the old dreamcatcher hanged beside her berth.

666

Syn was awake long before the sunrise. She did her morning ritual of drinking turpentine tea and cleaning her quarters and decided to head down into the brig.

„Well well, if it isn't the psycho bitch.“

„ The only psycho here is _you_ , Psydis.“

Syn leaned on the wall across the cell and its occupant and slid onto the cold, steel floor.

„ You are lucky we have to hand you over fully functional. Lockdown would love to ditch your mutilated shell trough the airlock.“

Psydis snorted.

„Pfft. Whateva'. An' don't think I didn't recognize ya, psycho bitch. Or should Ah say, Black Terror.“

Syn's optics dimmed as memories rushed in, flooding her senses. Smells, colors and sounds of fire and screams and laughter. Her _own_ laughter.

„Who sent you?“

Psydis regarded her with a hungry stare as she shifted.

„ Take a wild guess. She was real pissed when she heard ya got outta Tha Stockade.“

Syn offlined her optics. Oily tears threatened to spill out and unveil her pain for the world to see. She forced them down into her coolant system.

„Stormwind...“- she whispered brokenly.

„ Yeah. Tha crazy billionare wants ta see ya real deal. Not sure why.“

It all seemed so far away now. Syn knew it was only fifty thousand years ago, but is seemed like a long forgotten dream.

The beautiful seeker's grin when they blew up the old Twin Towers of Iacon. That same seeker's cold smirk when Syn was dragged into The Stockade. The pain. The _betrayal._ Syn spent ten thousand years in that pit of a building. She lived in depression and hatred for three hundred more. Master Yoketron saved her life. He saved _her._

Echoes of the past bit like ammonia tea in her throat.

_-Viva la revolucion!_

**_Boom!_ **

„ Viva la revolucion...“

_-Haha!_

_-Hurry, Stormy!_

_-Right behind ya, Synny!_

_-Down with the Cybertronian government!_

„Viva la revolucion...“

_-Together forever, right, Storm?_

_-Together forever, Syn!_

„Viva...“

_-Are ya sure this is safe?“_

_-Of course not! That's why we're doin' it!“_

„...la...“

_-Storm...why?_

_-...clean record. Nothing personal, Synaesthesia._

**_-STORMWIND!_ **

„...revolucion.“

„Hey, Black Terror! Snap outta it, yer creepin' me out!“

Syn snapped out of her memories when Psydis clapped his servos loudly. She checked her chronometer and stood up. It was morning already, and by the lack of the sounds, Lockdown was already up and contacting te local Elite Guard team.

She walked towards the exit, but hesitated in the doorway. She turned around and looked the mech in the brig straight in the optic.

„Tell Stormwind The Black Terror is dead. She deactivated the day she was betrayed.“

She briskly walked out, ignoring the whistle directed at her slightly swaying hips.

She came beside Lockdown when the screen lit up and a mech with a dark face and a blue flat visor showed up.

„ Officer Jazz here, how may we help ya?“

It sounded like he rehearsed it billion times. He most probably did.

„ Skip tha formalities ninja, we got yer mech.“

Jazz's demandor changed instantly.

„Oh, it's _you._ Should have known ya would've take him up. Wait...we?“

Syn moved closer to the console and waved.

„Pleasure to meet you.“

Jazz seemed completely at the loss of words now, but in the end just shrugged and whispered something to someone off-screen.

„Okay, I'm getting there. No funny bussines, bounty hunter.“

„Whatever.“- Lockdown growled and ended the call.

„So, that is the _other_ ninja, I assume?“

Lockdown glared at her and groaned positive, then brushed past her and stomped away to lower the ramp. Syn sighed and came beside him.

They waited.

666

Jazz came shortly after. He was alone.

„Bounty hunter.“

„ Ninjabot.“

They glared at each other and Jazz turned to Syn, offering her his servo.

„Glad to meet ya, miss..?“

„Synaesthesia. Pleasure is only mine.“

„Heh. Quite a paintjob you have there. I like it. It's stylish.“

Lockdown cleared his vocalizer and stomped his foot impatiently.

„If yer done, the psycho is waiting.“

Jazz gave him a flat stare.

„ Whatever, bring him here.“

Lockdown pointedly turned away and growled, stomping up the ramp. Before Syn could follow, Jazz grabbed her upper arm.

„Who are ya?“

Syn looked him up and down and remembered Lockdown said he was a flaw sympathizer. She was safe.

„ A flawed cyberninja who has no idea how she ended up here.“

Jazz choked on pure air.

„S-Sorry?!“

„ No need to be, I am not sorry.“

„What kind of flaw?“

„...Crossed senses.“

Jazz whistled low. Lockdown came into view, dragging a surprisingly cooperative Psydis behind him. Jazz walked over and took the chain of the stasis collar, slapping credits into Lockdown's awaiting palm.

„ See ya around.“

„ Doubtful.“

Lockdown shot him a slag-eating grin and Jazz huffed, turning away and dragging Psydis to his short distance ship.

Lockdown and Syn waited until the small vehicle rose up and flew away, then walked back in.

„Whoot! Three thousand five hundred creds! Better than tha last time!“- Lockdown cheered. Syn cracked a small grin and playfully tickled his side. Lockdown jerked and stared at her in shock.

„Oooh, is that tha way ya wanna play? Okaay...“

He lounged at her and she jelped. After a brief tussle filled with laughter, he tackled her to the floor, straddling her abdomen. He grabbed her hands and held them above her helm with the bunt end of his hook. His left hand sneaked down to her wings and he smartly skimmed his fingers over the flat surface.

The responce was instant. Syn arched her back and trashed wildly, laughing so hard her tank started aching.

The game went on for some time. Lockdown was taking great delight in her gasps and guffavs.

„L- _Lockdown_! S-Sto-hohoh-op!P- please-bwah _ahahaha! Mercy, p-uh-lease!_ “_ she wheezed.

Lockdown grinned and moved his hand to her neck. It looked so smooth and soft and fragile. Adding his hand in holding her down, he suddenly and without thinking dipped down and licked her throat.

Syn gasped as a powerful pleasure shot trough her. She struggled to free herself, but it was futile. Lockdown had a death grip on her. She bit back a moan as he kissed his way up her jawline to her round audio.

„L-Lockdown...Please...please stop...“- she whispered, blushing madly.

The only response was Lockdown pressing her down into the floor harder.

„ _Lockdown!“_ \- she managed to scream, terrified out of her processors.

Lockdown came to an abrupt stop. Pulling away, he saw her widened visor and got up quickly.

„Slag... sorry, kiddo. Ya hurt?“

Getting up as well, Syn walked over to him and took his hand into hers. She shook her head and Lockdown exhaled.

„I am sorry... I should not have began that.“

„Nah. Come.“

Lockdown led her to the ruined workshop and sat down on the table. Syn sat down beside him.

„...Sorry kid. I had no right ta do that.“

Syn smiled and leaned onto his massive arm.

„It's okay. I understand.“

Lockdown smiled as well and put his arm around her shoulder.

Syn looked around and sighed.

„We really shoud clean this mess up.“- but she snuggled deeper under the crook of his arm.

 Once again, he was shocked by how small and fragile she was. It was as if she was made out of glass, destined to break into tiny little pieces if she fell.

Lockdown silently vowed to himself that if she ever fell, he would catch her before she hit the ground and broke.


	6. One Step To Happiness

**A/N: School sucks, gonna write anytime I can. We're about to be bombarded by tests.**

**I know Lockdown feels ooc, but it is somewhat important in this story. I’ll try to make him as Lockdown-like as possible. I altered his flaw a bit, so there is only one frequency he can hear, a frequency of Syn's voice. Yes, Cyndi knows I'm writing this, I asked for her permission on deviantart. Thanks for the support!**

**I don't own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter VI**

Synaesthesia had many weird personal rituals. Waking up in the middle of the night, spending unreasonable amount of time by the water and blaring music all around were only some of them.

However, it was not in her shedule to wake up by rolling to the floor with a jelp because of a mild fuel pump failure.

A sigh. Mental counting to three. _Not going to scream, not going to scream...frag it all, I'm going to scream._

 ** _„LOCKDOWN! STOP YOUR INSUFFERABLE SNORING NOW!_**“

The only response was even louder snoring.

Another sigh. Syn got up and sneaked out of her room, across the hall, and into captain's quarters.

To be frank, Syn was not really allowed to go into Lockdown's room. However, he snored worse than a Predacon with a loose intake valve.

She tiptoed to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. No avail. Lockdown just resumed snoring. After a few more futile tries, she gave up and silently made her way towards the ship's kitchen. She made herself turpentine tea and checked her chronometer. 3 hours past midnight. She sighed for the third time that night and perched atop the counter, sipping her tea slowly. It was a bit too hot for her tastes, but it would cool quickly.

Finding herself very, very bored all of a sudden ( and Lockdown was _still_ thundering away), she pulled a sketchpad from her subspace.

Syn had many hobbies as well. Singing was a talent her new voice granted. Finding trash and turning it in a beautiful ornament was another thing she greatly enjoyed.

But what she _really_ loved to do was painting. She painted ever since she could remember, and kept her skills sharp by sketching. It was something she could never tire of. Like, _ever._

She looked down at the pad.  Lockdown's sketchy grinning face stared back at her. She frowned as her thoughts drifted to the bounty hunter. Never in her mind would she think she would consider a big, mismatching, selfish metal Frankenstein dool attractive. But she did. Lockdown was brave, strong, cunning and, oh to the Pit with it all, but Lockdown was _handsome._ Twisted, mismatching, dark, tall, talented and so handsome.

Her thoughts backtracked to that moment she struggled to keep under lock and key. Alas, it resurfaced anyway. His long legs straddling her abdomen, his arms holding her down, rendering her immobile, the pure _thrill_ of the moment.

And his mouth. Good _Primus_ his mouth. Having it slide over her throat and jawline was so... _purple._

Syn shook her helm violently as she started to feel arousal creeping up on her. She did not want to think about it. Yet she did at the same time. Was it normal?

No. Nothing about her was normal. She was not like _other_ fembots. Other _, real_ fembots spent their time pampering themselves, bringing their frames to the point of utter perfection. Syn only took so long as to clean herself once in two days and _never_ put facepaint on.

 _Real_ fembots were _sleek_. Syn was most certainly not. She had an extremely curvy figure and detested her round cheeks and wide hips.

  _Real_ fembots had a nice, petite, pouty lips and round optics. Syn had small, razor thin lips and almond shaped optics.

All in all, Syn _loathed_   her body. She loathed to looks she got, she hated the way her tighs touched. All of that self-hate ate at her, tasting bitter just like ammonia tea.

 Sighing, she saved the sketchy picture in her scraps folder and shuffled quetly to her room. She sat on her berth and gazed at the stars and nebulas outside of the Milky way. Two red clouds of gas danced a passionate dance and united together as one. Somehow, she still held onto the silver of hope that her Spark would one day be like one of those nebulas.

666

It was safe to say morning refueling on The Death’s Head was the most quiet and tame refueling session during the day. Lockdown was groggy and snappy, not at all a morning person, and Syn relished in silence and mutual sleepiness.

As she worked around the ship’s tiny kitchen, she was bombarded by a sudden idea.

An irrational, stupid, likely suicidal, but possibly possible idea.

She was going to get Lockdown back on the ninja path.

Morning grogginess replaced by a feeling of positivity and decisive confidence, she doubled the coolant in the kettle and put it on heating. She reached the shelf and took the turpentine jar. Taking two sponges, she dumped them into the jug. Turning away, she resumed cutting the energon noodles and making the axel grease dip.

The kettle whistled and she took it off the heating and divided the coolant into two separate mugs. Taking the sponges out, she poured turpentine in the coolant. Breakfast completed, she filled two plates with noodles and cups with turpentine and put them on the trays. Taking each in both of her servos, she balanced the axel grease dip on her helm and resumed walking to the workshop. Living on a small ship meant they had to improvise. The matter of space was solved by conversing. The workshop had a secondary function- a dining room.

Lockdown was seated at one of the surgery tables, sprawled over the chair and sleepily regarding a datapad in his palm.

Hoping this was not the last thing she was going to do, Syn gingerly placed a tray in front of him.

“Good morning, Lockdown.”

Lockdown looked up, his half offlined optics focusing on her nervously smiling face. Far too sleepy to be perceptive and observant, Lockdown grunted a reply and she seated herself across the table and started to refuel. She stole glances at him and he put his datapad away, finally noticing a meal in front of him. Syn watched as he straightened and his vision fell on the tray. He did a double take when he noticed a mug.

A mug of _tea._

Lockdown stared at the cup. He stared at the fidgeting Syn. He stared at the cup for some more.

Syn was seriously afraid for her life as of right now.

Lockdown was staring.

At least he was not breaking her into utter scrap. She relished every moment of her prolonged life.

Then something unexpected and surprising happened.

Lockdown shakily picked up the mug and sipped the turpentine. She smiled at him, reveling in her first victory and successful first secret lesson. Lockdown put the cup down and smiled uncertainly back.

The rest of the meal was spent in silence.

666

Maintaining the space ship, no matter how small, was a hard and complex job. Not to mention utterly tedious.

Syn sighed as she plucked jet another one of the space barnacles off the ship’s hull. She looked down at the flailing little slagger and tossed it into the container by her side. The Death’s head’s fire hoses for burning off space barnacles were malfunctioning. The only way to remove them was by hand.

The lotion she dumped over herself helped. She did not have to worry about infecting herself and becoming a CPU-eating cyber zombie.

Oh how she took that mental statement back.

The last conscious thought that formed in her mind before she fell victim to the barnacle that struggled free from her slippery grip and attached itself to her unprotected cheek was _Is my luck for real?!_

Lockdown found her sometime later. Or, rather, she found him. The big oaf was hunched over the open panel, repairing the glitch in the ship’s orienting systems.

“Yer done already?”

The Syn-like creature snarled.

Lockdown snapped around.

“What the-“

He dodged the swipe of an infected claw by millimeters.

“ _Really?!_ Can’t ya do anything rite?!”

Lockdown growled, running to the aft of the ship and away from the snarling mess that was Syn. She followed him angrily. Lockdown cursed under his breath. He ripped the panel clean off the ship and dug his arms elbow-deep in the bare wires and circuitry. He had no time to run inside and ignite the engines by command. He would have to wire-start the old bucket.

Syn was so close now. Lockdown doubled his efforts and tried to ignite the ship’s boosters again.

One spark flew.

Two sparks.

Three sparks.

Syn was only a few meters away.

Lockdown’s hands shook as he desperately tried again.

The boosters blasted heat on Syn’s mutilated body. The barnacles fried and fell of her plating. She screeched as the fire melted all the way down to her Spark-chamber. Lockdown powered the ship down and Syn looked at him through a haze, her face expressionless, the melted and broken glass dripping off her chassis. She fell on her knees and to the side.

The last thing she felt was not cold, rocky asteroid ground, but a pair of strong arms. And at that last, hazy moment, she felt _safe._

666

The harsh lights cast an eerie glow on the exposed Spark-chamber of the unconscious fembot. Lockdown’s digits worked quickly, hook replaced with a claw mod. He kept uttering curses and threats at the silent femme.

“Don’t. Ya. _Dare._ Don’t ya _dare, ya hear me?_ Ya ‘ave no rights ta leave me. C’mon kid! _Fight!_ ”

Grabbing another tool of the surgery table, he carefully cleaned the chamber of the broken and melted cockpit glass and started rewiring her Spark-plugs.

Desperate, he started whispering things he did not whisper in a long time.

“Primus, ya slagger, don’t ya _dare_ take ‘er away from me! Nobot says ya can take bots I care about away!”

Very soon his whispered curses became screamed prayers.

“Primus, _please! Please keep ‘er alive._ If ya exist and if ya _care_ , hear me out jus’ this one time! **_LET HER LIVE!_**

He took a shaky breath and resumed repairing the femme before him.

“ Thy will be done…”

666

Syn came to with a start. She winced at the processor-ache splitting her head in two. She ever-so-slowly turned her helm to the side.

Lockdown was there, helm buried in his big arms as her snoozed lightly. For once he was silent. Not even a snort came from him. Syn watched him with a smile for a while and placed her servo on his shouler, gently shaking him awake.

“Lockdown…”

Lockdown snapped awake and his optics fell in her. He was up instantly, running a full systems check.

“Slag, ya okay kiddo? Ya hurtin’? Anythin’ snappin’?”

Syn squeaked, alarmed, as Lockdown ran his digits against the new cockpit glass, carefully kneading it and asking millions of questions in a second.

“If anythin’ feels odd, ya gotta tell me! Anything?”

“Lockdown!”

Lockdown stopped dead.

“Huh?”

Syn gently smiled.

“I am fine.”

Lockdown stared some at her, his brows narrowed in utter _worry._ He sniffed, wiping at his optics. He gingerly took her in his arms and sat on her berth and pulled his legs up, leaning against the wall. He gently placed her on top of his frame and she widened her bare optics. She affectionately wrapped her arms around his neck and took off his helmet, nuzzling the scars lovingly. His big hands rubbed up and down her green booster and she straddled his hips.

The embrace was tentative, light and chaste. Lockdown buried his face in her neck cables and inhaled deeply. The smell was so unique, so _Syn._ She pulled slightly away to gaze into his beautiful optics.

“You were crying.”

That was not a question, but a statement. Lockdown wiped at his optics and met her gaze with affection, worry and, dare he say, _love._

Syn felt tightening in her throat and her optics were clouded with tears of joy. She forced them down in her coolant system. No tears.

…Was it just her or was it suddenly _very hot_ in her room? Lockdown was so close, cupping her booster, his claw mod trailing up to the back of her helm, enveloping it in warm security.

She felt his unique scent. It was so Lockdown-like. She felt smells of dust and different types of destronium. It was slightly spicy, the solder and scorches on his mismatched frame a monument to his gipsy-like life. She felt it pulling her towards him, begging, wanting, _craving_. Closer and closer, until her lips touched his.

Lockdown moaned and pulled her closer still, his chassis flush against hers. She felt her faceplate heat up and offlined her optics. The kiss deepened, her lips molding against his. Her upper lip was slightly pouty by nature and it melted against his pulled-in one. His bottom one filled the space under her upper one, massaging the razor-thin lip with newfound fortitude. They fit _perfectly._ As if their lips were made for each other.

Syn wrapped her thin arms around his thick neck and moaned lightly into the kiss. Lockdown smiled slightly and carefully held her, as if afraid to break her.

The kiss was broken and Syn gasped, looking in his optics. Smoldering flames stared back at her. Her servo trailed hesitantly down to his hip, caressing the wheel. The other one guided his servo to her wing.

Their first kiss was chaste. The one that took place was deep, hard, _desperate_. 

“ Easy kid. Yer still fragile.”

She smiled at him and his worry and he licked her bottom lip, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. She parted her lips slightly and his glossa explored her mouth, dancing a passionate dance with her own one. She moaned and cupped his cheek. His servo trailed down to her legs and caressed her curvy, smooth thigh. She gasped silently as he tweaked a wire in her hip seam and her servo rubbed his hips and spikes in response.

Reality performed a spin and Syn found herself on her back, Lockdown towering above her. He gazed into her optics with worry, his left hand worshiping her imperfect frame, his right one holding him up by elbow. His digits worked their way down to her cod and she gasped as her kneaded the seam between her thigh and panel. The question in his optics was obvious. She nodded lightly in response and her panel opened, her face flushing as she lay exposed before him.

Lockdown dipped down and wrapped his mouth around her port with gusto, running his glossa over it. Syn’s helm lolled to the left as she writhed beneath him. Her gasps and breathy moans were the sweetest thing Lockdown ever heard.

„Mmmm-oh! L-Lockdown...Please...“

Lockdown looked up and she pulled him back up, kissing him full on the lips. She heard a snap of the panel and they connected with a moan and a shudder.

Oooh, it was a tight fit. But _Primus_ if they did not mold into each other perfectly. Syn finally understood what _made for each other_ meant.

The pleasure built up as they rocked together. Syn anchored herself to Lockdown as he nibbled her neck. The explosion happened far too early and far too late at the same time. Syn saw white as she overloaded.

The small gasp that escaped Syn was the most erotic thing Lockdown experienced. The revalation that he was the cause of that gasp pushed him over the edge.

They slumped together in a tangle of limbs. Lockdown rolled to the side, pulling a tired Synaesthesia close to his chassis, enveloping her in a warm embrace. He slowly disconnected from her and she heaved a sigh, burying herself into his arms.

„What now?“

Lockdown looked down at her as she glanced up. He smiled and pecked her lips tenderly and put his chin on top of her helm.

„Now, we sleep.“

He _felt_ Syn smile back and kiss his chassis.

Minutes later, they were sound asleep in her berth.

And for once, Lockdown had no nightmares.

 


	7. Art Of Love

**A/N :Pfft haven't written in a long while school sucks and artist's block is a killer. Here’s some smut.**

**Don't  own. Only Syn.**

**Chapter VII**

**_„WHAT THE FRAG ARE YA DOIN' UP THERE?!“_ **

Syn was snapped out of her happy-meditation-time as Lockdown hollered from below. Sighing deeply, she leaned down to watch him flail his arms and steam away like a turbo lion. It was quite hard to make out what he was bellowing, seeing as she was perched atop of one of the highest points on the ship's interior.

The ceiling.

Still, she managed to catch a few words, such as _git off mah roof, tha Pit can't ya do yer ninjing on tha floor,_ and _... gunna break!_

„Don't worry. I won't break.“

„ _Not ya, ya idiot, mah ship! Git of 'fore ya break sumthing!“_

Sighing, a small smile gracing her lips, she flung herself so she hanged upside down. She grinned from audio to audio as Lockdown came up to her.

„Hello!“

„Dun ya 'hello!' ta meh! Ya break sumthin', ya fraggin' pay the fixin'! Now git down!“

Syn tilted her helm. It looked quite odd while hanging upside down. She loosened her grip on the rafter and let herself slip a few inches. Lockdown lounged after her, trying to catch her by reflex. Syn laughed.

„Haha! I knew you cared for my wellbeing!“

Lockdown flushed a bit and huffed, crossing his arms and looking away.

„Hmph! Ya whish!“

Syn gave one last chuckle and she leaned forward, pecking his inked cheek.

„Well, if you want me down, you must catch me first.“

Lockdown gave her a puzzled look, his brow ridge going up, as Syn shot him a seductive smile and disappeared into the darkness of the rafters. Lockdown catched on quickly and, chuckling darkly and a predatory grin gracing his sharp features, hauled himself up on the rafters.

It was really dark up there. The lights illuminating the ship were installed on the bottom side of the rafters, so it left the space between the rafters and the ceiling swallowed in darkness.

Syn came behind Lockdown and slightly brushed his hip before disappearing in the shadows again. Lockdown spun around and nearly fell down, and Syn had to suppress the urge to giggle. The old rust-bucket had no balance whatsoever! They would have to begin his recreation from a scratch. Ah well. Syn always liked the challenges.

She offlined her visor so the aqua glow wouldn’t give her away. Sliding gracefully along the rafters, she carefully maneuvered around Lockdown, who strained to feel the faintest of vibrations.

Finally feeling something, Lockdown spun around and nearly catched her. His servo grazed her wing and she felt a shiver course trough her, making her slightly slow down. She managed to dart away and Lockdown cursed in frustration.

Syn took hold of the upper rafters and crawled upside down. Stopping once she was above Lockdown, she hung herself by her knees and breathed down his neck. Lockdown took hold of her instantly, grinning wickedly down at her. It was an awkward position, he was grabbing her by her arms and she hung upside down, looking deeply in his optics, for once able to do so without looking up.

The flames behind his spindle optics stared back fiercely and she kissed him lightly, freeing her arms and sliding them around his neck. She took off his helmet and hung it on the rafter above. Lockdown took hold of her visor, popping it off from her optics, subspacing it. He kissed her again, more passionately this time, slipping his glossa in her mouth. It was what humans called “a Spiderman kiss”.

Breaking the kiss, Syn gave a little sigh, smiling at him. Lockdown took hold of her curvy hips and supported her as she swung her legs down, wrapping them around his waist. Wrapping their arms around each other, they kissed again, loving the way their bodies molded against one another.

“Syn...”

“Hm?”

“I- oooh…”

Lockdown moaned slightly as she fondled his shoulder spikes, forgetting what he planned to say in an instant.

“Hehe, Lockdown… you loveable idiot…”

Lockdown chuckled a little and his servo trailed down daringly, cupping her aft. Syn moaned quietly, burying her helm in her neck cables as he tapped her interface panel and the exostructure folded back, exposing her to his sneaking digits. He took his time seducing her, working her down to the helpless, moaning pile of steaming metal.

Syn felt him chuckle and nuzzle her neck, cupping her booster. He opened his cod piece and his jack extended, electricity already dancing against her abdomen.

“Wait.”

Lockdown stopped his administrations and looked down at her quzzicaly. She pulled back slightly to look into his optics.

“I want to try something. May I?”

Lockdown smirked a bit and stroked her wing comfortingly.

“Sure thing, kid.”

Syn untangled her arms from his neck and took hold of the rafters above.

“Mirror me.”

Lockdown frowned, curiosity taking the better of him. He hung himself in front of her, her legs still tight around him. Syn pulled her left leg from him and let it dangle a bit. Lockdown wrapped his left leg around her curvy hips, letting the other one wrap around her own under them. Syn let her left servo hold her up as she wound her right one around his neck. Lockdown mirrored her.

“Do you know what this is?”

“…Yeah…infinity chain.”

“Mmhmm. My favorite position of Circuit-Su lovemaking.”

Lockdown dipped down to steal a kiss from her and she eagerly kissed him back. They connected after a bit struggle caused by the odd position. Once they did, Syn could practically _taste_ Lockdown’s arousal. And _oh,_ how it sounded good. Pleasure shot trough her and she mewled as he hit her sweet spot.

Syn was the first one to overload. She struggled to hold on, desperately trying not to slip and fall off. Lockdown nuzzled and licked her neck, shuddering from the warm heat steaming off her shaking plating.

“Let go, kid. I gottcha.”

Overload crashed over her like a tide. She clung to Lockdown, gasping. Never in her existence did she feel so _alive._

Lockdown overloaded shortly after, pleasure coursing through him as he tightened his grip on her, the rafter he was dangling from denting. He growled in her neck and the vibrations shoved her helm-first into another overload. She desperately held onto Lockdown, her optics wide and bright, condensation rolling down her neon frame. She panted and relaxed as Lockdown slowly lowered them down, disconnecting himself from her. He held her as she recover from her other overload and lowered them on the floor, harsh lights making their frame glisten. He carried her to her room and she typed in her pass code. He lied down on her berth and she sprawled herself on top of him, smiling lazily. He kissed the top of her helm as she drifted off into sweet recharge, the steady beating of his Spark lulling her to sleep.

666

The morning catched Syn snoozing on top of Lockdown’s chassis. She yawned as she came to, looking up at her partner with a lazy smile. He looked down at her fondly and she crawled up to him and gave him a sluggish good-morning kiss on the lips.

“Hungry?”

“Pit yeah.”

Syn laughed tiredly and got off, stretching her arms above her helm and moaning as her joints popped back into place. She turned around and smirked as she noticed Lockdown staring at her intensely, a predatory grin on his face.

“Enjoying the show, partner?”

“Pit yeah.”

Syn sat on the edge of the low berth and rubbed his thigh. Lockdown pulled her back on top of him and she yelped, looking down at him playfully.

“Mind telling me why I get the idea you are hungry for something else besides morning refuel?”

“Pit yeah.”

“Is that all you are able to say this morning?”

Lockdown nuzzled her neck, grinning wickedly.

“…Pit yeah.”

Syn pouted and slapped his wandering arm, crawling off the berth for the second time. However, before she could stand up and walk away, he sat up and wound his arms around her waist from behind, dragging her back.

“ _Ack!_ Lockdown!”

Syn laughed and struggled, trashing in his grip as he trapped her under his frame, taking hold of her pushing servos and trapping them in his servo. His mouth tickled her cockpit and she forced the tears into her coolant system, laughing so hard her tank ached.

“M-Mercy Lockdown _, please!”_

Lockdown grinned and put his mouth on her chassis, blowing harsh air, making her laugh even harder.

“Hm, let me think ‘bout it. No.”

“Gwah! Let go-hohoho, you moron! _Bwahahahahaha!”_

Lockdown pulled back to leer down at her.

“And what are ya willin’ ta give in return?”

Syn gulped and smiled meekly up at him.

“Um…I am sure we can work something out.”

Lockdown smirked and let her go, hauling her up and swinging her over his shoulder.

“Hey! What gives?”

Lockdown carried her out of the room and stomped down the hall.

“Breakfast.”

Syn groaned and slumped against his back, wary of the spikes, but smiled anyway. Suck a perfect morning.


End file.
